


Peer Pressure is a Bitch

by facetiousfutz



Category: South Park
Genre: Anxiety, Bickering, Caffeine Addiction, Caffeine Withdrawal, Canon Gay Relationship, First Kiss, Gossip, It just kind of happened, M/M, Tweek didn't choose to be an honorary member of the girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetiousfutz/pseuds/facetiousfutz
Summary: Oddly enough, the source of Tweek’s distress wasn’t a war of chemicals misfiring in his brain. It wasn’t even the absurd amount of caffeine he’d ingested not too long ago.The source of his distress was surprisingly mundane.“How come we haven’t kissed yet?” said Tweek.





	Peer Pressure is a Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> “Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his word. This is probably overdue anyway since he’s right, we are supposed to be madly in love.”  
> ― Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

Tweek was too wound up in his racing thoughts to remember much, including the past week. He forgot his mom’s birthday again. He forgot to write a paper that was worth twenty percent of his grade. He even forgot to hop in the shower that morning, though he may have left the shower head running. He didn’t want to be late for school, but Bebe texted him, so he had to text her back, or she’d accuse him of ignoring her again. Girls were scary when they were mad. Pleasing them was way too much pressure.

Speaking of which, Tweek could not remember, for the life of him, how he became friends with the girls. 

Ever since the whole Freedom Pals game, Tweek and Craig learned to be more secure in their relationship, allowing for each of the boys to mingle with their own cliques while still being together. As such, Craig often spent lunch period sitting with Cartman and those assholes as he always had before. Tweek preferred to sit far away from anyone at lunch and enjoy his meal in peace and solitude. At least, that’s how it went before the girls started migrating to his lonely table one by one. First Wendy, then Bebe. Then Red, Nichole, Annie, Heidi, Lisa Burger, Whatsherface, and Fartlord. Girls, girls, girls! They just kept coming. Dear God. 

Girls never wanted anything to do with Tweek before, until suddenly they were all crowded around him; giggling, gossiping, sparkle and sunshining now like this is how it’s always been. Sure, Tweek didn’t remember a whole lot, but he knew damn well that this is NOT how it’s always been! It was like he was a sudden afterthought in some corny little Disney Channel sitcom. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know what their deal was. 

“Argh!” Tweek belted. “Why are you all sitting here?” 

“What are you talking about?” said Bebe.

“Yeah, we always sit here,” said Nichole, and then went right back to her one-sided conversation about Jaden Smith with Fartlord.

“No. You used to sit over there, by the vending machines!” Tweek insisted. 

“It’s cold over there,” said Annie. 

“Yeah, and besides, we can sit whereva we want. It’s a free country!” said Heidi. Then she belched. All the girls glared at her, and Tweek didn’t even protest when she took his chocolate milk away and drank it all in one gulp. 

“I-I sit over here so I can be alone!” said Tweek. 

“Hey yeah. You did always sit alone,” said Whatsherface. 

“And we all felt so bad and wondered why Craig would be such an inconsiderate dick as to let his poor boy toy sit all by himself at lunch,” said Lisa, pushing up her thick glasses. 

“Yeah. Stan always sits with me at lunch,” said Wendy. “When I feel like it, that is.” 

“Yeah, well. Craig and I are the same way!” said Tweek. He was tempted to get up and take the now vacant table by the vending machines, but a bunch of anal-probing aliens took a seat there just as he was getting up. They all brought City Wok, too. Chinese food always gave Tweek a tummy ache. He didn’t even like the smell of it. 

“Actually, Tweek. We have something we’re dying to know.” 

“Yeah!” all the other girls chimed in, except Heidi, who was slurping on her spaghetti with no interest whatsoever. 

“W-what?” said Tweek, regretting the question the instant it came. 

“You have to tell us about your first time,” said Wendy. “With Craig.” 

“And we want all the juicy deets.” 

“Yeah!” 

“Huh?!” said Tweek. “You mean, like, t-the first time we held hands?” 

“No, stupid.” 

“The first time you KISSED,” said Annie, and half the table swooned. These girls were out of their fucking minds. 

“Kissed?!” said Tweek, who all but flung himself out of his chair. “What?!” 

“Yeah!” 

“Surely you two have kissed by now.” 

“It’s been like what? Five months?” 

“It has?” said Tweek. “Wait, what month is it? Oh god. Were we supposed to have an anniversary, or something?”

“No, that’s only after you’ve been dating for a year,” said Wendy. “Only obnoxious bitches have like three week anniversaries.” 

“Fuck you!” said Heidi, her jowls flapping. 

“But... I don’t even remember the exact day we started dating,” said Tweek, his chest sinking. “A-and Craig and I haven’t kissed yet.” 

“Shut. Up.” 

“No way!” 

“What? Are you waiting for marriage?” 

“Come on, girlfriend. Get with the program.” 

“How could you do this to us?”

“Yeah! We wanted advice on how to kiss boys!” 

“Then why didn’t you dumb bitches ask me?” said Heidi. “I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

She waddled over to Craig’s table, interrupting their meal as she took a fist full of Cartman’s jacket and kissed him as hard as she could on the lips. The girls all eww’d. Clyde threw up. 

“I can’t believe anyone would ever willingly kiss Eric Cartman,” said Red, a noticeably green tinge across her cheeks. 

“Yeah, me neither,” said Wendy, despite having locked lips with the fat turd himself once upon a time. She still hasn’t kissed Stan either, because he throws up on her every time she tries. 

“Tweek, why haven’t you and Craig kissed yet?” said Bebe. 

“Ngah!” said Tweek. “I-I dunno! We just... we just haven’t, OK?” 

“Quit bitching, pussy,” said Heidi, sitting back down. The other girls scooted away from her. They didn’t want her Cartman cooties. “Just do what I did. It’s easy.” 

“No!” said Tweek. “I don’t want my first time to be like that!” 

“Then what do you want, Tweek?” said Nichole. 

“Yeah! You can tell us, Tweek.” 

“You’re an honorary member of the girls now.” 

“You can tell us anything.” 

“Group hug!” 

“Awwwww!” 

About twenty or so girls piled onto Tweek in that moment. He could smell all sorts of lip gloss, fruity gum, Heidi’s raisin sweat, Bebe’s hair spray, Nichole’s cocoa butter, Wendy’s breath. It was all unbearable. He was crowded, and sweaty, and itchy, and the girls latched onto him like a bunch of greedy leeches. What did they want from him? All he wanted was to eat lunch alone! He didn’t even ask to become an honorary member of the girls. Maybe he was gay. Maybe he was even yaoi gay, and the uke in his yaoi gay feelings, but he was still a boy, damn it! He had to escape these insufferable girls. 

“AAAGGGHHHGGHH!!! THIS IS WAY TOO MUCH PRESSURE!” Tweek screeched, and tore free of the group hug of death with all his might, knocking Whatsherface to her feet. He then ran from the cafeteria as fast as his legs would take him. Then he spent the rest of his day in various states of hyper-ventilation in the boy’s bathroom. 

This was a pretty typical day at South Park elementary honestly, though he kept making the mistake of selecting the stall next to the urinal. He twitched violently and grunted when he saw a certain boy on the other side of the stall totally drop trow. 

“Hey Tweek!” said Butters, then went right back to his song about peeing. Tweek “argh’d!” in response. 

“Say, Tweek. You’re awful popular with the girls these days. The fellas and I are kinda jelly.” 

“I already told you. I don’t know what they want from me. Argh! I wish they’d leave me alone.” 

“I reckon it’s cuz you’re a pretty homosexual boy with big ol’ eyes. Girls are inta that, ya know?” 

“GYAHHH!” said Tweek, pulling at his hair. 

“Oh well. Have fun screaming on the toilet, little buddy,” said Butters, patting the stall. He then turned around and left the bathroom. 

“He didn’t even wash his hands,” said Tweek, twitching. “Gross!” 

Hours seemed to go by. Tweek had no idea. He lost his phone earlier, so he couldn’t check it. He was alone with his thoughts, and the occasional nobody that came in and did their business. One sixth grader in particular took a nasty shit, and Tweek felt lightheaded, but still unwilling to move, let alone face the general public. He’d already waited too long to leave the bathroom. If he went to class now, he’d get in trouble. If he went home, he’d get in super trouble. If he went to PC Principal and asked politely to be excused from school for the rest of the day, that would be his best bet. 

Of course, PC Principal might ask why Tweek was so anxious. If he had to tell the principal that the girls hugged him without affirmative consent, PC Principal would give them all detention and call their parents and they’d all be super pissed off about it. Tweek didn’t want to make an enemy of the girls, but he also didn’t want to throw them under the bus. 

He didn’t dislike the girls. It was just... 

It was all too much, too fast! Tweek was used to being alone. He was used to existing on the mere fringes of this group, or that. His one trial run with Stan’s gang was a complete nightmare. No wonder Kenny disappeared for such a long time. Anyone would need a break. What an impossible role to fill! And who the fuck could willingly hang out with Eric Cartman every goddamn day? Tweek was so fucking done after five days of it. 

Tweek was stuck. His one viable option was to stay right where he was until the dismissal bell rang. That was his plan, and damn anyone who didn’t like it. 

He had a rough guess of what time it was based on how caffeine-deprived he was. The dull, radiant pain and hum growing in his forehead had him guessing there was one hour left. While he sank further and further into withdrawal, he nodded in and out of microsleep, as he often did during class. At one point he had his cheek pressed to the toilet paper dispenser, and he’d been asleep and drooling a solid ten minutes, only to be jolted awake by the sound of the bathroom door being shut and locked. 

“AGH!” 

“Tweek?” Craig said, approaching his stall. 

“Craig!” Tweek said, stumbling out of the stall, disheveled and miserable. His eyes sunken and crusty, his hair hopeless, and the scent of the bathroom’s humid mist of stale piss clinging to his shirt and skin. He was going to take a scalding hot shower when he got home. 

“Dude, are you feeling all right?” Craig took one step toward Tweek, and Tweek backed away. 

“Don’t come near me! I smell like a fucking urinal!” 

“Well, that’s what happens when you hide in the bathroom for three whole hours,” said Craig, rolling his eyes. 

“No shit! This just in, Craig Tucker’s a fucking genius. Give the man a medal!” 

“Don’t take your bad mood out on me,” said Craig. “I was gonna ask if you want me to tell those stupid girls to fuck off, but you’re on your own now.” 

“GOOD! I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!” Tweek shouted so loud that the mirrors shook, and Craig flinched. This was worse than he thought. A lot worse. Tweek was hunched over, his eyes glazed, his skin sickly, almost gray. There were stains all over his shirt, his nails were chewed to the bone and bloody. Tweek was never the picture of grace, or perfect health, but there was something totally off right now. 

Craig had to hold it together. No matter how sarcastic, or shitty he wanted to be, he had to swallow it. He had to. He had to swallow it. He had to. Focus.

Focus.

Fuck. 

“Tweek, come on,” said Craig, extending his hand. “School’s over. Let’s go home.” 

“No!” said Tweek. “Get out!” 

“Tweek...” 

“I don’t... I... ARGH! Fine. I need coffee anyway,” said Tweek, feebly gripping Craig’s hand like a lifeline. 

“Let’s get you some coffee, babe,” said Craig, and the boys laced their fingers together as they exited the gross bathroom. 

They walked in silence through the neighborhood, having already missed the bus home. Tweek shook and grunted, and Craig could feel him trembling. He knew better than to offer the other boy his jacket just yet. He also knew better than to say anything at all. When Tweek was like this, it was best to let him decide if they were going to have a nice conversation, or not. It depended on how bad his headache was usually. 

“I’m so sorry I yelled at you earlier,” Tweek finally said, once they’d gotten a few blocks past City Hall. “I’m really stressed out today!”

“I can tell,” Craig said, offering the smaller boy’s hand a squeeze. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Nygaahhh, a-after coffee,” was Tweek’s response. 

“OK. After coffee.” 

It was about twenty more minutes of walking, but they reached Tweek Bros. Coffee hand-in-hand, much to Mr. and Mrs. Tweak’s delight. Usually when Tweek arrived by himself they put him right to work regardless of how frazzled he was. When he arrived with Craig, he got at least an hour to recharge his batteries. He poured himself an extra large black coffee and washed down one dose of Excedrin Migraine for his headache. 

Craig knew on some level that the amount of caffeine Tweek consumed on a regular basis would probably make the average adult keel over, but Tweek’s body had grown so tolerant of it that he chugged it down like water. One of these days this boy was going to need an intervention, but this wasn’t the day. Something else was wrong, and that something was girls. 

“You coherent yet, babe?” 

“Five... ten more minutes,” said Tweek, already notably calmer. 

“Craig, can I interest you in some coffee today?” said Mr. Tweak, a full pot in hand as he approached the table. 

Craig flipped him off and said, “You’re slowly killing your son with that crap.” 

“Hot chocolate it is!” said Mr. Tweak, walking away like Craig hadn’t said anything remotely significant at all. 

“Craig...” said Tweek, lifting his pounding skull off the table. There was a red mark on his forehead, and color had returned to his face. His posture wasn’t great. His eyes were bloodshot. He was shivering, and now that they were inside this was the appropriate time for Craig to drape his jacket over Tweek’s shoulders, so he got up and did just that. Tweek smiled and held it around his body like a blanket. It was such a perfect moment, until Mr. Tweak returned with the hot chocolate that Craig never asked for. 

“Aww, look honey. Tweek is wearing Craig’s jacket,” said Mr. Tweak.

“Aww, how cute,” said Mrs. Tweak. “You boys are just precious.” 

“Can you leave us alone, please?” said Craig. 

“Why sure! You boys enjoy your little coffee shop date. I’ll be at the cash register if you need me,” said Mr. Tweak, who somehow never took his eyes off them as he headed toward the other side of the shop. Tweek and Craig were used to this, but it was still annoying every time. 

“My dad sucks,” said Tweek. “It’s OK. You can say it.” 

“It means more when you say it,” said Craig. “Now, you ready to tell me what’s going on? Why were you hiding in the bathroom again?” 

“The girls...” said Tweek. 

“Yeah. I figured. But what about the girls?” 

“They sit with me at lunch,” said Tweek. “They all crowd around me and gossip. A-and it’s always gossip about dumb things that I don’t care about. Like, umm. Like Justin Bieber, I think. Is Justin Bieber even relevant anymore?”

“They still talk about Justin Bieber?” said Craig, though his tone was so flat it sounded more like a statement. “If he were any uglier he’d be Sarah Jessica Parker. No. Barbara Streisand.” 

“I know!” said Tweek. “Gah! Girls have really bad taste in guys. Like, REALLY bad taste. Heidi Turner is still dating Cartman, for fucks sake!” 

“Preaching to the choir, hon.” Craig took a sip of his hot chocolate and coughed. It was a thick and lumpy explosion of sugar, like Mr. Tweak used two or three packets of cocoa powder rather than one. Maybe he was only good at making coffee, not that Craig would know. He refused to touch the vile substance. “And then there’s Blake Shelton. Sexiest guy in the world my ass. What’s up with that?”

“... Who?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Argh!” 

“Seriously.” 

“Craig!” said Tweek. He was smiling and his cheeks were pink. “You, umm.” 

“What?” 

“You, well. You make me really happy.” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” Tweek scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means...,” said Craig, and suddenly he had butterflies and couldn’t keep his eyes on Tweek. He knew he had to say the right thing, but what was the right thing? He barely knew how to use his words, and everything he did know he learned the hard way from dating Tweek and pissing him off every other day. Then his mind decided to draw a total blank, so he smiled and gave Tweek the finger instead. 

Tweek smiled too and gave him the finger right back. Then they laughed, but the perfect moment was short-lived by Tweek’s stupid parents cooing in the background. 

“Let’s get out of here,” said Craig. 

“I can’t!” said Tweek. “I-I have to work!” 

“Take the day off, son,” Mr. Tweak chimed in. “I think you’ve earned it.” 

“A-ah! Really?” 

“Go on. Get out of here, you crazy kids.” 

“Sweet. Let’s go to my house,” said Craig, taking Tweek’s hand. It seemed strangely chilly outside once he opened the door. He completely forgot to take his jacket back from Tweek. That was fine, though. He had his hat and a thick pair of socks on. Tweek looked good in blue, too. 

On their way out, the two boys didn’t miss Mr. Tweak sighing wistfully while he said, “they’re so gay” and they both rolled their eyes. At this point it’s like yeah, no shit, to the rest of the town, but Tweek’s dad still managed to find the awe and wonder in it somehow. 

They ventured over to Craig’s house, another long walk, but Tweek was feeling much better now, so they were able to carry a conversation. One sixth grade boy across the street belted “fags!” at them, and the girl that boy was trying to score with socked him in the jaw and took off. It was a fairly typical occurrence, one Craig might have dreaded back when he was more self-conscious. He hated being “other’d” in any way, shape, or form. It wasn’t anyone’s place but his own to “other” him. 

At least his friends and family seemed to get it. Except for his asshole uncle Skeeter, but that’s another story.

“We’re home,” said Craig. His dad was at the craft table putting together a model rocket that was pissing him off something fierce. Dad grunted and waved, but didn’t take his eyes off his work. Craig gave his dad the finger and headed upstairs with Tweek, content to leave the greeting at that. 

“Isn’t your dad gonna yell at us for having the door closed?” 

“Probably,” said Craig. “Anyway, you want to watch something on youtube?” 

“N-not really.” 

“OK, how about a video game?” 

“No...” 

“You want to pet Stripe?” 

“Maybe later.”

“Welp, I’m out of ideas,” said Craig. He flopped onto his bed and whipped out his phone. Meanwhile, Tweek stood about ten feet away, trying to avoid eye-contact with Craig and fingering his hair. He wasn’t quite distressed enough to start yanking at it again, but he had enough nerves buzzing at the pit of his tummy to set himself off at a moment’s notice. If need be, Craig would be right there if he needed to crash and burn. 

Oddly enough, the source of Tweek’s distress wasn’t a war of chemicals misfiring in his brain. It wasn’t even the absurd amount of caffeine he’d ingested not too long ago. 

The source of his distress was surprisingly mundane. 

“How come we haven’t kissed yet?” said Tweek. 

Mundane though it was, the question caught Craig so off guard that he glanced up from his phone. Tweek’s hands were twitching. One was holding the other back, probably to keep it from ripping out another clump of his hair, chewing all his nails to the cuticles, or picking at the dry skin. Obviously this question took a great deal of energy for Tweek to blurt out, because he was starting to look like shit again, and Craig was so lost for words he could only stare and blink. The longer he was silent, the more Tweek shook. 

Eventually, when Tweek looked like he was going to fall to his knees and cry, Craig tossed his phone away and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could totally do this. 

“I dunno.” 

There. It was an answer. An honest answer. He’d never lie to Tweek. Only shitty boyfriends tell lies. 

“That’s it?” said Tweek. “You don’t know. That’s really it? Really?” 

“Yeah. That’s really it. I don’t know. I always kind of assumed it would happen when it happens, like in the movies.” 

“WHAT?!” Whatever answer Tweek was bracing himself for, it definitely wasn’t that. 

“Tweek, calm down.” 

“Fuck you, Craig!” said Tweek, shrugging off Craig’s jacket and kicking it across the room. 

“Hey! I don’t go to your house and kick your stuff around,” said Craig. 

“AGH! How could... what the fuck?! What the fuck, Craig?!” 

“What?” 

“YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW OUR LIVES AREN’T SOME STUPID MOVIE!” 

“Jesus fuck, Tweek. If it means that much to you, why didn’t you just say so?” 

“It’s not the type of thing you can just SAY, you MORON!” 

“Why not?” 

“I! I DON’T KNOW!” 

“You don’t know.” 

“I don’t!” 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, I don’t know either?” 

“ARGH!” 

“Deep breaths, damn it. That’s it. Come on.” 

Craig had his arm around Tweek after the fourth breath. Tweek had his eyes shut, and Craig walked him over to the bed, where they sat in silence for as long as they needed to. Once Tweek pulled himself together, he leaned his head on Craig’s shoulder and cried a little. 

“I’m sorry I called you a moron, Craig,” said Tweek. “I’m the moron.” 

“No, you’re not,” said Craig.

“I can’t... I can’t do anything.” 

“Tweek, come on. Remember what your therapist said about positive affirmatives?”

“Affirmations,” he corrected softly. 

“Yeah. Like, you’re supposed to say ‘I am strong.’” 

“I-I am strong.” 

“OK, and then you say ‘I am in control.’”

“I am in control.” The tension in Tweek’s shoulders started to melt. Craig let out a small sigh of relief, though there was still a lot of work to do.

“And, uh. I forgot the other one.” 

“It’s OK,” said Tweek. “I, umm, I have a new one anyway.” 

“Yeah? What?” 

“I am...” he swallowed, and Craig squeezed his shoulder to reassure him. He took another slow, deep breath, and he said, “I am ready.” 

“Ready?” said Craig. 

“Ready,” said Tweek. “I am ready. I am ready to kiss you, Craig. When... if... you...” 

“OK.” 

“Huh?”

“OK.” 

“No, no!” said Tweek. “Don’t just say OK. You have to be ready, too. That is, if you are. It’s OK if you’re not, obviously.” 

Craig didn‘t hesitate. “I am ready.” 

“For what, Craig? Say it and mean it.” 

“I am ready to kiss you, Tweek,” said Craig, feeling incredibly awkward. This felt a lot more like a damn therapy session than a romantic moment where two lovers somehow just know what to do and dive right in. He didn’t understand why this had to be so technical and complicated. He didn’t even understand what was so significant about kissing anyway. 

Speaking of which, suddenly he was very aware of what the inside of his mouth felt like. He could still taste his Lunchables from earlier that day, not to mention the unpleasant film that one sip of hot cocoa left on his tongue. Oh, and his lips were super dry. He reached for his capstick reflexively, but remembered that it was in his coat pocket, laying in a sad heap on the other side of the room. He had to get up and use it. He at least had to do that much. Maybe brush his teeth, too.

He wasn’t the only one self-conscious about the state of his mouth. Tweek’s lips were also chapped. His mouth was dry and it always tasted and smelled like coffee. Coffee breath was considered unpleasant. Not at all suitable for kissing. What if he and Craig kissed and didn’t like it? What if it ruined their whole relationship? So many what ifs. Tweek knew how to stop what ifs, though.

“I am strong.”

“I am in control.” 

“I am ready to kiss Craig.” 

“Sorry. My lips are really fuckin’ dry, dude,” said Craig, applying liberal amounts of medicated chapstick to his lips. “And, uh. My breath probably stinks.” 

“YOUR breath? I’m the coffee drinker!” 

“So? It doesn’t bother me.” Craig took his seat, and the boys both looked uncertain as they gazed at one another. 

“Are we? Is this really happening?” 

“Not yet. I’m waiting on you.” 

“Me? I don’t want... I mean. I can’t start it. That’s too much pressure!” 

“But if I fuck it up you’ll get mad. You start it!” 

“Y-you won’t fuck it up. You never fuck anything up.” 

“I fuck up every day.” 

“Not like I fuck up.” 

“Oh for fucks sake. Fine!” 

Craig leaned in and kissed Tweek on the lips very quickly, the way one might kiss their own relatives goodbye. It was what he knew, so it’s what he did. 

“What was that?” said Tweek. 

“That was a kiss.” 

“You kiss like my grandma!” 

“I told you I’d fuck it up.” 

“You fucked it up on purpose to prove a point!” 

“No I didn’t.” 

“Jesus Christ!” Tweek hollered to the ceiling. Then he grabbed Craig by the collar of his shirt with both hands and kissed him hard, like how Aladdin kissed Jasmine that first time. He’d never been more thankful for his entire library of Disney movies in that exact moment, and this time it did feel like magic. He closed his eyes and thought of stars and fireworks. 

Craig’s initial motionless shock was short-lived. The butterflies in his stomach thrashed, and he thought he might just throw up, or forget to breathe if he didn’t do something. He chose to bring his hand’s up and hold Tweek’s face between them, drawing gentle lines in his unkempt hair while their lips stayed glued together for what seemed like hours. 

Finally, when that burst of energy drained from them both, they pulled themselves apart and looked at each other, saying nothing, but knowing their relationship was on a whole other level now. Nobody kisses like that and doesn’t mean business. 

“At school,” said Craig. “If those girls ask, are you going to tell them about this?” 

“Hell no,” said Tweek. “It’s none of their business.” 

“Glad to hear it.” 

Not that Tweek would have minded. Craig, on the other hand, was a very private boy, and he had his own comfort zone. Of course Tweek was going to respect that. Maybe he was a fucked up bundle of nerves that couldn’t remember a damn thing that happened last week, but he made a point to remember all of Craig’s boundaries, and was thrilled that they were on kissing terms now. He thanked the girls for the inspiration to bring it up, at least in his own mind. Now that he knew something that they didn’t, perhaps the swarm of them wouldn’t bother him so much at lunch anymore. 

“You want to do that again sometime?” Craig asked. “I’m open to it. You know, whenever.” 

“How about now?” Tweek asked. 

Craig answered him with a much longer kiss than his first one. It wasn’t all sparks and heart throbs like the one Tweek had initiated, but Tweek was good at lovey-dovey things, and Craig was learning. Learning fast. Fast enough that Tweek was smiling, cuddly, and burying himself in Craig’s chest. It was warm and comfy. All the anxiety from before drained away. All was as it should be. And when Craig’s dad inevitably came up the stairs and threw open Craig’s door, he couldn’t even be mad when he spotted Tweek curled up asleep against Craig’s shoulder while Craig was dinking around on his phone. 

“So,” said Mr. Tucker. “First kiss huh?”

“So you heard us,” said Craig, eyes firmly on his phone. “Whoops.” 

“I think the entire neighborhood did. That boy sure can scream. Makes me concerned for the future.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ll... I’ll tell you when you’re older. Maybe. Probably not,” said Mr. Tucker, wanting nothing more than to disappear in that moment. “Dinner’s ready in a hour. And for fucks sake, keep this door open, or mom will tan both our hides.” 

“K,” said Craig, not that he cared. His mom wasn’t that scary, and he was too lazy to get up and close it anyway. Speaking of lazy, Tweek just snoozed and drooled away on his shoulder and pillow. Craig kissed him on the head, then went right back to thumbing through dank memes and other boring Internet shit, just like anyone else would.


End file.
